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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMEKIflA. 



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W/icn trade is du//, collections bad 
Aud " blue " you feel and look. 
Don't take ''a smile,'' sit dozvn awhile, 
And con this little book. 




COMPILED BY 

N. r/sTREETER 




PUBLISHED BY THE COMPILER. 
1889. 



"^ 






^ 






Copyrighted, 1889, 

By N. R. STREETER. 

Groton, N. Y. 



Copies of this little book will be s^ut to any address by mail, 
postage paid, on I'eceipt of price (Fifty Cents). 

Address, N. R. STREETER, Groton, N. Y. 



WHY THIS LITTLE BOOK WAS PUB- 
LISHED. 



Havii^g travelled tlirougli all the States and 
Territories of the Union; crossed the continent by 
the four different routes, and tried the pleasures 
of the coast steamers on both the Atlantic and 
Pacific oceans, I have formed many pleasant ac- 
quaintances with '^Knights of the Grip^^ in dif- 
ferent parts of the country. 

And having something of a reputation as a nat- 
ural reader and impersonator, I have often been 
called upon, in Pullman cars, hotel parlors and 
other places, to furnish something in the way of 
entertainment for the " boys/' In many cases I 
have been asked for copies of selections which I 
have given, and sometimes have written copies in 
answer to such requests. 

Through the suggestions and the assistance of 
friends, especially my old travelling " pard," E. S. 



4 WHY THIS LITTLE BOOK WAS PUBLISHED. 

Hooper, and the editors of the American Coinmer- 
cial Traveler, of Chicago, "a briglit newsy little 
paper, published in the interests of Commercial 
men and which should be in the hands of every 
man who carries the grip,^' I have compiled the fol- 
lowing GEMS, which I respectfully dedicate to 
that great army of men known as " Drummers," 
of which I am proud to be considered a member. 

N. R. STREETER. 
Groton, Oct. 7, 1889. 



CO]^TENTS. 



What Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox Says of the 

Boys, 9 

A Letter froui Home, 10 

The Drummer and His Grip, .... 11 

A Drummer's Constancy, 13 

The Drummer to His Grip, 14 

My Sweetheart , . . 17 

"Horse and Horse," 18 

The Battered Old Grip, 20 

The Drummer's Baby, 23 

The Drummer's Life, 25 

The Battered Old Grip's Lament, ... 26 

"When the Check is on the Kiester,'' . . 28 

The Drummer's Dream, 80 

Lamentations of the Travelling- Man, . . 31 

" In the Gloaming," 34 



CONTENTS. 









PAGE 


The Drummer, . . . 




35 


Never go Back on a Travellirjg- Man, 




36 


The Rival Drummers, . 






38 


Der Drunnner, 






40 


The Toast, .... 






41 


The Blacksmith's Story, 






44 


Bill Brown, from Colioes, 






49 


The Veteran and His Grandson. 






52 


Sergeant John Carter and Son, 






58 


Our Folks, .... 






61 


Banty Tim, .... 






64 


The Old Tools in a Frame, . 






66 


The Old Man and Jim, . 




. 


68 


Paddy's Excelsior, . 




. 


71 



Extract from Speech made before the Louisville Com- 
mercial Club, by Ex-Gov. J. Proctor Knott. 

" I object to the term Commercial Traveller. It is 
too indefinite and inconclusive. Commercial ' Evan- 
gelist ' strikes me as far more significant and appro- 
priate, especially in view of the modern acceptation 
of the word. 

''TheAvant Courier of Christian civilization, who 
puts aside the endearments of home and family, and 
goes bravely out into the world on his Master's work, 
defying discomforts, disease, danger and death. 

" I hold that next to the religion of our Divine Sa- 
viour the most potential of all promoters of human 
civilization, is commerce. 

" It ministers to our wants, multiplies our comforts, 
gratifies our tastes, increases our enjoyments, elevates 
our natures, and prepares the way for the Gospel of 
Peace. 

" It disregards alike the heat of the tropics and the 
snows of the frigid zones. It dares the night and tem- 
pests of the trackless sea, it spans the raging torrent, 
it brushes the mountain out of the way, it changes the 
wilderness into a teeming field, and rears the stately 
palace in place of the squalid hovel. The school 
bell beats time to its stately march, and the church 
spire springs up in its pathway. 

"AVhy should not the forerunners of an agency so 
beneficent be termed ' Evangelists? ' But why not, 
after all, stick to the good old fashioned but sugges- 
tive word ' Drummer.' 

' ' Tourist traveller or evangelist may be more eupho- 



8 EXTRACT. 

nious, but I prefer ' The Drummer ' to any of them. 
It is such a hale, hearty old word, so suggestive of 
energy, courage, and manhood, and it fits the mouth. 

"But call them what you will, I like the craft. I 
have always found them a genial, whole-souled set of 
fellows, as well as intelligent, energetic, honorable 
business men, 

"Do you see that fellow curled up in the car seat, 
fast asleep, unmindful of the roar of the train, the 
yells of the brakemen, the ingress and egress of pas- 
sengers? He's a Drummer. He rode forty miles last 
night through wind and rain and mud, to make the 
point. And he made it. 

"That^lick young man who is helping the poor, 
tired looking woman with her numberless bundles and 
her sick baby ? He's a Drummer too. 

"And that bright-faced youngster who is rising to 
give the venerable old gentleman his seat, is a Drum- 
mer also. 

"And so are those four fellows at the rear end of the 
car, who are amusing themselves and every one around 
them with their flashes of wit and humorous stories. 
They're all Drummers. 

" The closest observers, the keenest judges of human 
nature, the most entertaining narrators of curious and 
interesting facts of any class of men in the world. 

" ' All hail to the men of the satchel 
The sample, and iron-bound box. 
For they have the stuff within their skin 
That stands life's rugged knocks.' " 



■GEMS 

FROM m OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 



WHAT MES. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 
SAYS OF THE "BOYS." 



F 



IRST in the crowded car is he to offer — 
This "travelling man/' unhonored and 



The seat he paid for he is first to proffer 
To some lady old and wrinkled, or some woman 

fresh and young. 
Something, a trifle from his samples maybe. 
To please the fancy of the crying baby. 

He lifts the window or drops the curtain 
For unaccustomed hands. He lends his case 

For a bolster for a child, not certain 
But its mamma will frown him in the face. 
So anxiously some women seek for danger 
In every courteous act of every stranger. 

Well versed is he in all those ways conducive 
To comfort where least comfort can be found. 

He turns the seat unasked yet unobtrusive; 
His little deeds of thoughtfulness abound. 



10 GEMS FROM AN^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

Is glad to please yoii or have you please him. 
Yet takes it very calmly if you freeze him. 

He smooths the Jove-like frown of the official, 
By paying the fare of one who cannot pay. 

True modesty he knows from artificial. 
Will " flirt," of course, if you^re inclined that way. 
And if you are, be sure that he detects you. 
And if you^re not, be sure that he respects you. 

The sorrows of the moving world distress him ; 
He never fails to lend what aid he can. 

A thousand hearts to-day have cause to bless 
him. 
This much abused, misused " commercial man." 
I do not seek to cast a halo round him. 
But speak of him precisely as Fve found him. 



A LETTER EEOM HOME. 

rpHE hotel 'bus from the midnight train, 

-^ Brought only one passenger through the rain ; 

A commercial tourist, weary and sad. 

For trade had been dull and collections bad. 

ISTot a single order was on his book, 
The disgust he felt was shown in his look; 
With a careless hand he wrote his name. 
On the page of a book unknown to fame. 



GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 11 

The drowsy night clerk the signature scanned. 
Then a letter placed in the drummer's hand; 
See how he starts, what a smile of delight 
Comes over his face at the welcome sight. 

Open the envelope is quickly torn ; 
And over his face, so weary and worn, 
Now flit, like sunbeams after a storm. 
Smiles of joy as the message takes form. 

Thus clouds of despair that will often appear 
To the travelling man, sometimes in the year. 
Are quickly dispelled by such simple means 
As one friendly letter — How queer it seems! 

So wives, sweethearts, brothers, and chums. 
If you know where we^ll be when Sunday comes. 
Write us if your time will permit. 
Draw on us at sight and we will remit — Our 
- Thais^ks. 



THE DRUMMER AND HIS GRIP. 



rpHOUGH the rain and sleet are falling, 
-*- And the roads are " awful muddy," 
Though all men " hard times " are bawling. 
Though a fellow's nose gets ruddy, 



12 GEMS FROM AN^ OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 

Though the rivers may be frozen, 
And the frost may bite and nip, 

They can never stop the advent 
Of the drummer and his grip. 

Though the trains may all be smashing, 

Though the horses all go lame. 
The drummer, like the bedbug, 

Will get there just the same; 
And when his time is over. 

Will come smiling from his trip 
For he always " makes connection,^' 

Does the drummer with his grip. 

Ah, he teaches us a lesson. 

With his energy and grit. 
Things that "paralyze'^ most people 

Don't astonish him a bit. 
And he's ever bright and cheerful. 

And a smile is on his lip; 
He's a daisy from away back. 

Is the drummer with his grip. 

Give him a kind word always, 
He'll give you back the same; 

For the doings of some "black sheep" 
Don't give the whole tribe blame. 

Far down, clear down to Hades, 
^ Some so-called " good men " slip. 

While along the road to heaven 
Goes the drummer (with his grip). 



GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 13 



A DEUMMER^S CONSTANCY. 

BY JOHN" DEW ITT. 
[In American Commercial Traveler.] 

"TTTHEN I reach out for my grip, 
^^ To begin some lengthy trip, 
I look into the eyes of my sweetheart 
And say, " Goocl-by, my dear." 
Then I kiss away each tear 
That trembles on her lashes as I start. 

And I whisper, " Pet, 1^1 try 
To surprise you by-and-by, 

By some token that will make those bright eyes 
shine." 

But she says, with beaming face, 

"Ah, no gifts can take your place. 
So write to me each day, if but a line." 

When a woman thus is true, 

Oh, what can we "' dru mmers " do. 

But love the very ground they walk upon? 

We might search the whole world wide. 

But we'd find no girl beside 
To fill our hearts like this beloved one. 



14 GEMS FROM Ai^ OLD DRUMMER S GRIP» 

So be careful when you say 
That each " drummer/' when away. 
Is sure to have a girl in every j^lace. 
Though he's obliged to roam, 
The " drummer " loves his home. 
And worships his own wife's attractive face. 

This is why he travels miles 

To see sunniest of smiles 

Appear upon the face of that dear wife; 

And to get his baby's kiss, 

Which, away, he has to miss. 
He would give the best ten years of his life. 

If you doubt what I now say, 

Just you try this plan some day, 

And peep into some traveller's watch-case. 

And there, underneath the lid. 

You will find a picture hid; 
I'll guarantee 'twill be his wife's sweet face. 



THE DRUMMER TO HIS GRIP. 

"TT^ULL many a weary mile, old Grip, 
-■- We've travelled o'er together. 
Both in sunshine and the storm — 
In every kind of weather. 



GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 15 

How many hours youVe waited, Grip, 

Alone in some hotel, 
AVhile I was selling piles of goods. 

Or " getting scooj^ed " like well. 

I never was profane, old Grip, 

You never heard me swear — 
Not even when that bottle broke. 

And I'd no shirt to wear. 

How often you've " held down the seat," 

You darling, dear old Grip, 
When I went to the smoking car 

With friends to take a sn smoke. 

I've trusted you with secrets. 

Grip, in fact, you hold some now. 
Which, were they known to folks at home. 

Would raise an awful row. 

You've kept my secrets well, old Grip, 

At home and ^' on the road," 
Though scores and scores of times, old friend. 

You've carried a " heavy load." 

You\e seen me shed sad tears, old Grip, 

When no one else was nigh. 
And often tried to comfort me 

AVith drinks of good old rye. 



16 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

We've seen some hard times, too, old Grip;- 

Like me, youVe stood abuse; 
Sometimes, like me, you've empty been, 

And sometimes " f uller'n a goose/' 

Yet, I never saw the time. Grip, 

When you were really drunk, 
Though oftentimes I had to " preach " 

To our old " sample trunk." 

We're gray-haired rusty chaps, old Grip, 

And don't look very fine ; 
The ladies never notice us. 

As when we used to shine. 

You know the reason too, old Grip — 
They know the world we've seen; 

So they " catch on " to newer grips 
And travelling men in green. 

Oh, well, we've seen the time. Grip, 

Whene'er we left the train. 
It was to leave some gentle heart 

Just fluttering with pain. 

And you could tell of letters. Grip, 

And faces, sweet and fair. 
Which I have left, day after day 

In your most sacred care. 



GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER S GRIP. 

Well, we are aged now, .old Grip — 

I'm forty-nine, you're seven ; 
Soon you'll be laid upon tlie slielf, 

I — sailing off toward heaven. 

But we will stick together. Grip, 

The longest that we can, 
For, next to wife, there is no friend 

Like Grip to a travelling man. 



MY SWEETHEART. 

BY JOHN" DEWITT. 
[In American Commercial Traveler.] 

A LITTLE tot, with dark brown eyes, 
-^-^ Waits at my chamber door. 
And says, " Why did you stay so long ? " 

You promised to come before. 
I waited for you most ^ free ' days. 

For I knew that you would come. 
And bring me, in your sample case 

Chocolate and chewing gum. 

"I've nursed my dolly awful long, 
And played with all my toys; 

I got so tired I most fell asleep 
Playing with some boys. 



18 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMERS GRIP. 

Little 2:irls like me can't wait 
So long for their papa to come; 

You must tell your trade to hurry up. 
Your best girl waits at home. 

" Just take me with you for one trip, 

I'll not be in the way; 
I'll promise to keep awful still 

When your samples you display. 
At night I'll sleep close by you. 

With my arms around your neck, 
And I'll help you write your letters, 

And in Ma's will send a check," 

God bless these little children, 

How they rule us with their sway. 
And they make us mighty homesick. 

When we're many miles away. 
But when our trip is over. 

And they meet us at the door. 
These kind of " sweethearts " are the style 

We " drummers " do adore. 



"HORSE AND HORSE." 

T'D been on a trip ten months (about that) 
^ AVhen I returned to find my Mary true. 
And though I questioned her, I doubted not, 
'Twas unnecessary so to do. 



GEMS FROM AJ^" OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. 19 

'Twas in the chimney corner, we were sitting. 

" Mary/' said I, " have you been always true ?'' 
'* Well frankly,'^ she said, just pausing in her knit- 
ting 

" I don't think I've unfaithful been to you. 
But since you've been gone I'll tell you what 
fve done, then say if I've been true or not. 

" When first you went away, my grief was uncon- 
trollable, 

Alone I moaned my miserable lot; 
My friends all thought me inconsolable. 

Till Captain Clifford came from Aldershot. 
To flirt with him amused me while 'twas new — 
But I don't count that unfaithfulness, do you ? 

" Charles Augustus Henderson lent me his horse; 

My ! how we rode and raced. 
We scoured the downs, we rode to hounds. 

And often was his arm around my waist. 
That was to help me up or down; but who 
Would count that unfaithfulness, do you ? 

" Next, young Frankie Pipps, just twenty-one. 

We met at uncle's; 'twas at Christmas tide. 
And 'neath the mistletoe, where lips meet lips. 

He gave me his first kiss. (Here she sighed.) 
We were six weeks at uncle's — my! how time 

flew!— 
But I dou't count that unfaithfulness, do you ? 



20 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

" You know Reggy Vere. My ! how lie sings ! 

We met, 'twas at a picnic; ah, such weather. 
And see, he gave me the first of these two rings, 

When w^e were lost in ClilTton's woods together. 
What jolly times we had together, we two — 
But I don't count that unfaithfulness, do you? 

" And see, I have another ring. This plain gold 

band that's shining here." 
I took her hand, " Mary," said I, " can it be that 

you — " 
Quoth she, " That I am Mrs. Vere. 
I don't count that unfaithfulness, do you? " 
" N-o," I replied, " for I'm married too." 



THE BATTERED OLD GRIP. 

C. E. BANKS. 
[In American Commercial Traveler.] 

AH yes! it is faded and ragged and worn; 
One handle almost, one entirely, gone; 
The erst shining lock all tarnished and scaled. 
The key long since lost, and every clasp failed; 
The sides falling inward in gaunt, hungry way, 
And open-mouthed corners, as waiting for prey; 
But incidents many, all fleet-footed, trip 
Through my mind, at the sight of this batter'd 
old grip. 



GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 21 

How often, preparing to start on my route, 
I have taken it down, and, dusting it out. 
Spread it wide at my feet, with its back to the 

floor, 
Wond'ring meanwhile if ^twould hold all my 

things as before. 
Ah! many's the friend a man tries, but to find 
Him holding far less in his heart than his mind ; 
But here's a companion ne'er gave me the slip — 
Always faithful and willing — my batter'd old grip. 

First, a half dozen shirts seem to fill up each side. 
Yet 'kerchiefs a dozen, scarfs tied and untied. 
Collars, cuffs, underwear, pipe, tobacco and 

gloves — 
A score of small knickknacks fit into the grooves; 
A clothes brush, pomade, a picture or two 
Of a dear Hampshire lass, to look at when blue. 
And perhaps a small phial containing a " nip," 
All snugly packed into the batter'd old " grip." 

The great ocean steamers with cabin and hold. 
Hang the sign out at last "no more here en- 
rolled;" 
The street car — capacity something immense — 
Eefuses at last a place for your pence; 
E'n the venerable stage, despite legend and lore. 
Has been known to decline the "room for one 
more;" 



22 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER''S GRIP. 

But surely a lie must mantle tlie lip 
Of liim who would say, " no more room in this 
grip " ? 

And down as I gaze, sweet memories drift 
Through the channels of thought, and its worn 

form T lift 
With a reverent touch, and think, with a sigh, 
Of the thousand dear things in the long since 

gone by 
That have lain in its pockets, and hid in its 

depths — 
A mother's kind letters, teaching good, true pre- 
cepts ; 
And others, with tokens from maiden's pure lip, 
Eead over and over, held place in the "grip.'' 

To-day I am thirty and four, yet I feel 

All those feelings of youth and love o'er me steal 

As I gaze at its dingy old covers and think 

In my first manhood days, how I stood on the 

brink 
Of life's speeding river and dreamed of and 

plann'd 
A home just the neatest and best in the land, 
Where a sweet face would greet me returned from 

each trip 
With a welcome and smile for myself and the 

"grip." 



GEMS FROM Al^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 23 

God bless every stitcli in the shrunken old hide, 
That has floated me over life's changing tide 
To this island of peace, which I now so enjoy 
With my dear loving wife, my girl and my boy; 
God bless it, I say, in palace or cot. 
In wealth or in poverty, whatever my lot. 
Though stern fate should from me all other gifts 

strip, 
I'll cling to you ever, dear batter'd old " grip." 



THE DRUMMER'S BABY. 

ii T^IGr time to-night,'' the drummers said, 
-^^ As to supper they sat down; 
" To-morrow's Sunday, and now's our chance 
To illuminate the town." 

" Good ! " cries Bill Barnes, the j oiliest — 

The favorite of all; 
"Yes; let's forget our trouble now 

And hold high carnival." 

The supper done, the mail arrives; 

Each man his letters scanning. 
With fresh quotations — up or down — 

His busy brain is cramming. 



24 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

But Bill — wliy^ what's come over liim — 

Why turned so quick about ! 
He says, just as his parcls start forth; 

"I guess I won't go out." 

His letter bore no written word. 

No prayer from vice to flee; 
Only the tracing of a hand — 

A baby hand — of three. 

What picture comes before his mind — 
What does his memory paint ? 

A baby at her mother's knee — 
His little white-robed saint. 

What cares a man for ridicule 

Who wins a victory grand ? 
Bill slept in peace, his brow was smoothed 

By a shadowy little hand. 

Naught like the weak things of this world 
The power of sin withstands ; 
^ No shield between man's soul and wrong 
Like a little baby hand. 



GEMS FROM AIS: OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 25 



THE DRUMMER'S LIFE. 

C. E. BAi^KS. 
[In American Commercial Traveler.] 

/^NE came in the morning, with eager eye 
^-^ The register scanned, then quickly sought 
The merchant out, induced him to buy. 

And his book was soon with an order fraught. 
So the drummer comes and the drummer goes, 

And his heart with joy is ready to burst. 
He recks not, he, his competitors' woes 

But hugs himself that he got there first. 

One came in the evening, with hopeful air. 

And spread his samples in a hurried way. 
But left full soon, bowed down with care — 

The " other fellow " had passed that day. 
So the drummer comes and the drummer goes. 

And the days are bright and the days are sad, 
Yet cheerful always, and no one knows 

Why the heart is sore of the drummer lad. 

They met ere a month was scarcely passed. 

And hand clasped hand in firm, true grip. 
And ^' brother " and " brother " to each was cast 

From beaming eye and speaking lip. 
So the drummer comes and the drummer goes. 

And his hand is ready, his heart is brave, 
To buffet life's evils with sturdy blows. 

Till he takes his last order and fills — a grave. 



26 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER S GRIP. 



THE BATTERED OLD GRIPS LAMENT. 

C. E. BAKKS. 
[In American Commercial Traveler.] 

"\7^ES, I'm an old gripsack worn out in the race; 
-*- A newer and brighter has taken my place ; 
High up ^neath the rafters contemptuously cast. 
Neglected, to dream of a glorious past ; 
No comrade to share my lone exile, ah me! 
1 who have travelled by land and by sea, 
In my old age forsaken ^mongst cobwebs and dust, 
Slowly falling to pieces from disuse and rust. 

It is gloomy enough, I assure you, up here 
In this grim, dreary place and oft-times a fear 
That I never shall see the bright sunlight again 
Stirs my shrunken old sides with a wearisome pain ; 
I deserve something better than rust and mildew — 
To my trust I always was faithful and true — . 
And they surely could spare an old servant a nook 
Where life had something of cheer in its look. 

Oh! the pathway of life, lay it out as we may, 
A word or a breath may change in a day ! 
And, now that I'm broken by service and age, 
Fm tossed like a vagabond into this cage — 
Like a storm-beaten ship cast up on the strand — 
^Tis the way of the world, and fate's cruel hand 
Has little of pity; our usefulness past, 
We are all laid aside and forgotten at last. 



GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. 27 

My master has now all the comforts of life, 
A neat cheerful home, a sweet loving wife, 
Bright, rosy-cheeked children to comfort his cheer, 
A bank account growing from year to year; 
And when the kind darkness has driven away 
The shadows that mock my poor semblance of day, 
And their concerted voices float up to my den 
In laughter and song, I am happy again. 

Sometimes, but not often, two pairs of small feet 
Bring two little figures my prison to greet, 
And two little faces make sunshine of gloom. 
And two merry voices make joy in the room ; 
And oft in their play, with frolic and shout. 
They toss my batter'd, worn figure about. 
Oh, may they ne'er suffer the heart- aches and 

stings 
The sorrows and woes which adversity brings. 

Thus day after day I lie here and dream, 

While drift the dull years down Time's sluggish 

stream, 
Calling up the dear pictures of days "on the 

road," 
When trouble and care was a feather-weight load. 
The engine's shrill whistle strikes sharp on my ear. 
The bluff, hearty greetings of " brothers," I hear; 
I dream and awake to my desolate lot. 
To feel that I was, and know I am not. 



28 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUM3IER'S GRIP. 

Oh, ye who successfully 'counter life's ills, 
And mount to the summit of fortune-kissed hills. 
While plenty surrounds you and pleasures over- 
load, 
Eemember the weaker ones passed on the road, 
And if there's a brother in trouble to-day. 
Who neglected himself to hel|) you on your way, 
Help him out — who can tell but your own feet 

may slip — 
Just think of the face of the batter'd old grip. 



"WHEN THE CHECK IS ON THE 
KIESTER."' 

"TTTHEN the check is on the kiester and the 
^ ^ price book put away. 

And the drummer turneth homeward at the clos- 
ing of the day. 

Then it is that dimpled fingers make odd stains 
upon the glass. 

And little eyes are peeping at the peojile as they 
pass. 

Waiting for papa's coming, and wondering why 
he stays, 

" I'm coming certain, Frfday," is what his postal 
says ; 

But "his coming certain, Friday" often means 
the following day. 



GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. 29 

When the check is on the kiester and the price 

book put away 
There is much of joy and promise in the coming 

of the day, 
When the kiester and the price book are forever 

put away. 

Of course he'll miss the hasheries and welcome 
" come agin/"^ 

And the diamond-shirted clerk, and the bugs that 
dwell therein; 

But there's something compensating in three 
square meals a day. 

Prepared by hands of loved ones in the good old- 
fashioned way. 

And the smile that always greets him at the clos- 
ing of the day. 

When the check is on the kiester and the price 
book put away. 

The rattle, noisy clatter of the dusty railway 

train. 
And the dirt roads and the turnpikes he'll ne'er 

go o'er again; 
Combination prices and bar of the hotel 
Are remembered now with pleasure for the goods 

they helped to sell; 
And the " kicker " and the grumblers are with the 

" chronics '- classed, 



30 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. 

And are only now remembered as vexations of the 

past ; 
And oh, his heart is joyful as the brightest sunlit 

day, 
For the check is on the kiester and the price 

book's pnt away. 



THE DRUMMER'S DREAM. 

A little room in a little hotel, 
^^ In a little country town; 
On a little bed with a musty smell, 

A man was lying down. 

A great big man with a great big snore — 
For he lay on his back, you see — 

And a peaceful look on his face he wore. 
For sound asleep was he. 

In his dreams what marvellous trips he made. 

What heaps of stuff he sold ! 
And nobody failed and everybody paid. 

And his orders were good as gold. 

He smiled and smothered a scornful laugh. 
When his fellow-drummers blowed; 

For he knew no other had sold the half 
Of vfhat his order-book showed. 



GEMS FROM AJT OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 31 

He got his letter from home one day : 

" Dear Sir — we^ve no fitter term 
To use in your case than simply to say : 

Henceforth you are one of the firm/' 

And a glorious change it made in his life. 

He now from the road withdrew; 
And really soon got to know his wife 

His son, and his daughters too. 

But with a thump — bang- whang — thump-bang 

again 
The "boots" had knocked at the door; 

" It's very near time for the 5:10 train/' 
And the " Drummer's Dream " was o'er. 



LAMENTATIONS OF THE TEA YELLING 

MAN. 

BY AK OLD DRUMMER. 

"^T^OU who envy the travelling man's life, 
-^ And fondly imagine it free from all strife, 
Just take out some samples for one short trip, 
And if not very pious, an oath you'll let slip. 

You arrive at the town, in the evening, quite late, 
" The good rooms are all taken " such is your fate. 
The supper is cold, and not fit to eat. 
And the beds, well for hardness they could not be 
beat. 



32 GEMS FROM AN^ OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 

Yon arise in the morning, quite unrefreshed, 
You swallow your breakfast, and then go in quest 
Of a merchant who lives at the end of the town. 
And you learn, from his house he has not yet 
come down. 

Your samples you place by the side of the door. 
And fondly imagine an order in store. 
But after long waiting he comes only to say, 
"There's nothing Fm needing in your line to- 
day." 

You may draw your argument down very fine, 
And expatiate on your " very fine line," 
But the magic quickly goes out of your loro 
When you learn a competitor's just been there 
before. 

Your customer may be a man of the kind, 

That by talking, and talking, and talking him 

blind. 
You may get an order, although very small. 
It helps pay expenses, and that's about all. 

Perhaps a twenty-mile ride you have had. 

Over roads that were hilly and terribly bad. 

But your courage goes up, when he invites you to 

call, 
And he'll " Probably want some goods in the fall." 

You go to the depot, the next train to get, 
^Tis four hours late, there's no use to fret. 



GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 33 

You take out a cigar to have a good smoke. 
When you feel in your ribs, the station man^s poke. 

"No smoking allowed here, don't you see the 

sign.^^ 
And even that comfort, there, we're forced to 

resign. 
Then out on the platform we plod on and plod. 
And envy the man that carries the hod. 

Our employers expect us to sell lots of goods. 
In towns that are lonely and far in the woods. 
We travel on freight trains, we drive in a hurry. 
Expenses foot up and we get in a flurry; 

Our samples are heavy, the charges are high. 
We have no redress, the money must fly. 
An itemized expense account they always expect. 
And if it runs light, they're sure its correct. 

Now if you merchants who sit in the store. 
And consider the travelling man always a bore, 
AVould think the situation o'er for a while. 
When he enters your door, he would meet with a 
smile. 

They keep you well posted, and you certainly can 
Buy your goods best of the travelling man. 
Don't send then away with a frown or a jeer. 
And your balance will please you at the end of the 
year. 



34 GEMS FKOM AK OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 

And you who send out the travelling men. 
Encourage them, if only by the scratch of a pen. 
They'll render good service, will work with their 

might, 
If they feel that the "House'' is treating them 

" white." 



"IN THE GLOAMING." 

Note.— If any of the "boys," who read this Httle book, have ever 
taken a trip by steamer, from Portland, Ore., to San Francisco, Cal., 
they will appreciate the following parody on "In the Gloaming,"" 
said to have been written by a daughter of Bret Harte. 

/^N the steamer, Oh ! my darling, 

^^ When the fog horns screech and blow, 

And you hear the steward's foot steps 

Softly come and softly go. 
AVhen the passengers are groaning. 

With a nameless, unknown woe. 
Don't you think it better, darling, 

You and I should go below ? 

In the cabin. Oh ! my darling. 

Think not bitterly of me. 
Though I rushed away and left you. 

In the middle of our tea. 
I was seized with sudden longing 

To behold the deep, blue sea. 
It was best that I should leave, dear. 

Best for you, and best for me. 



GEMS FROM AI^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 35 



THE DRUMMER. 

CON'TRIBUTED BY LAFE HEIDELL, 
Rochester, N. Y. 

n^HERE^S nothing like a drummer when he's 
^ out upon the road, 
And the season's one long summer with a sun that 

never glowed 
In brighter colors in the tropics, when the world 

is painted red, 
And the pumpkins in the dew drop, and the dew 

drop's in his head. 

There is no other fellow that is such a prince as he, 
AVhen he's just a little "mellow'' and as 

" chummy " as can be. 
Then he tells of how old Moses took his account 

of stock 
And got hosiery written ^' hoses" when the rye 

was on the rock. 

No, there isn't any fellow that can sing a jollier 

song 
AVhen he's just a trifle " mellow " and the nights 

are growing long 
Than the drum, drum, drum, drum, drummer 

when he does his level best. 
When the moon shines on the pumpkin, and the 

pumpkin's way out west. 



36 GEMS FROM A:N^ OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 

Yet he has his serious moments, does this hardy 

son of toil, 
And he always has a fancy for the rare side of the 

broil, 
He sides with the under dog if the whelp is not a 

cur. 
And he always knows a hog, by the color of his fur. 



NEVER GO BACK ON A TRAVELLING 

MAN. 

BY ROBERT LOVELL. 

/^H, pity, kind gentlefolks, friends of human- 

^ ity, 

Sympathy's scarce, since the world first began. 
And did you but know it, you ought to bestow it 
If ever you did, on the travelling man. 
You may call us all "runners,^' ^^ guerillas" or 

" bummers " 
And agents or "drummers" or what else you can; 
But you'll always regret it, and don't you forget it. 
If you ever go back on the travelling man. 

Right here, I make mention, 'tis not my intention 
To shield the wrong doing of some erring " pard." 
If he don't use discretion, some foolish transgres- 
sion 
Will drop his name off from the firm's business 
card. 



GEMS FROM AJ;r OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 37 

No use in dissenting, he'll quit representing 
The house that he has so disgracefully served ; 
No longer the trade that he formerly made 
Will keep, for his coming, their orders reserved. 

There is no use disguising the fact, though sur- 
prising, 

That of trials and troubles the " boys " have their 
load; 

Our life would be dreary, indeed we'd get weary. 

Did we not have our fun while we're out on the 
road. 

There is one thing quite certain, you charge us 
with flirt in' 

With all the gay lasses we happen to meet. 

When even the preachers adore the dear creatures. 

Don't you think they'd all better be kept off the 
street ? 

Ask conductors or train men, livery or dray men. 
Or the two-dollar a day men, who sell us our hash, 
Just ask them quite plainly, on whom they count 

mainly. 
For the root of all evil, but best known as cash. 
And they all to a man, sir, will give you this an- 
swer, 
"We generally try to make all that we can; 
But of all of our patrons, the ' drummers ' are fat 

ones 
And our profits all come from the travelling man." 



38 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 

In closing this ditty^ we don't crave your pity. 
We ask your good will which we hope ne'er to lack, 
Eemember us kindly, don't slander us blindly, 
For in sixty days more we'll be 'round on your 

track. 
To the trade, one and all, big dealers and small. 
And we mean what we say when we make the re- 
quest. 
If your credit's " 0. K." and you're able to pay, 
Eeserve us big orders — that suits us the best. 



THE RIVAL DRUMMERS. 

"TT was two rival drummers, 
-*- The merits they did blow 
Of safes were in 8t. Louis made 
And safes from Chicago. 

They chanced upon a merchant 

Who fain a safe would buy. 
And in the praise of their houses' wares 

The drummers twain did vie, 
Each striving to see which could construct 

The most colossal lie. 

Out spake the St. Louis drummer, 

" Once a man a cat did take, 
And locked the animal in a safe 

Of our superior make. 



GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 39 

" They made a bonfire round the safe 

With tar and kerosene. 
And for four-and-twenty hours it blazed 

With raging heat, I ween. 

" The fire went out, the safe was cooled. 

And I will forfeit five 
Hundred good dollars if that cat 

Did not come out alive." 

Then mild upspake and answered him 

The Chicago safe-agent : 
"With our safe one day we did essay 

The same experiment. 

"We placed the safe selected on 

Of coals a fiery bed. 
And pitch pine we heaped in coal-oil steeped 

Till the iron glowed bright red; 
And in forty-eight hours we ope'd the safe 

And, alas ! the cat was dead ! " 

" Was dead ? Aha ! '' his rival cried. 

With a triumphant breath; 
But the Chicago man replied : 

"Yes; the cat was frozen to death!" 

No word that St. Louis drummer spoke. 

But silent stood and wan, 
While the Kansas merchant an order gave 

To the Chicago man. 



40 GEMS FEOM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 



DER DRUMMER. 

\ \7H0 puts oup at der pest hotel, 
^ ^ Und dakes his oysders on der schell, 
Und in it der frauleins cuts a schwell ? 
Der drummer. 

Who vash it gomes indo mine schtore, 
Drows down his pundles on der vloor, 
Und nefer schtops to shut der door ? 
Der drummer 

Who dakes me py der handt und say : 
" Hans Pf eiif er, how you vas to-day ? " 
Und goes for peesness rightdt avay? 

Der drummer. 

Who shpreads his zamples in a trice, 
Und dells me " look, und see how nice ? " 
Und says I gets '^ der bottom price ? " 
Der drummer. 

Who says der tings vas eggstra vine — 
" Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine " — 
Und sheats me den times oudt of nine ? 
Der drummer. 

Who dells how sheap der goots vas bought, 
Mooch less as vot I gould imbort. 
But lets dem go, as he vas " short ? " 
Der drummer. 



GEMS FROM AI^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 41 

Who varrants all der goots to suit 
Der gustomers ubon his route. 
And ven dey gomes dey vas no goot ? 
Der drummer. 

Who gomes arount ven I been oudt. 
Drinks oup mine bier, und eats mine kraut, 
Und kiss Katrina in der mout ? 

Der drummer. 

Who, ven he gomes again dis vay, 
Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say, 
Und mit a plack eye goes avay ? 

Der drummer. 



THE TOAST. 



/~^OULD I sip of the nectar, the gods only can, 
^^ I would fill up the glass to the brim. 
And drink success to the " travelling man " 
And the house represented by him. 

And could I but tincture the glorious draught 
With his smiles, as I drink to him then. 

With the laughs he has laughed, and the jokes he 
has told, 
I would till up the goblet again. 



42 GEMS FROM AIT OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 

I would drink to the sweetheart that bade him 
good-bye 
With a tenderness thrilling in bliss; 
Ah, he thinks of her now, as his heart heaves a 
sigh, 
Eemembering the sweets of the kiss. 

To the purest of hearts and fairest of hands 
I would drink with my hopes and my prayers 

For the one she must trust, is a "travelling 
man " 
Who will share all her joy and her cares. 

I would drink to the wife with the babe at her 
knee, 

AYho awaits his return, bye and bye 
Who opens his letters so tremulously. 

And reads while the tears fill her eye. 

I would quaff to the feeble old mother 

Who sits by the fireside alone. 
And murmurs and weeps, o'er the stocking she 
knits 

While she thinks of her wandering son. 

I would drink long life and health to the friend 
AVho greets him with many a cheer. 

To the generous hand the stranger extends 
To the sojourner wandering here. 



GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 43 

And when he quits this earthly abode. 
And has paid the last fare that he can, 

Mine Host of the Inn at the end of the road, 
Will welcome the ^''travelling man." 



G. A. R. GEMS. 

[Several Drummers, who are also members of the G. A. R., have 
requested that I include in tliis little volume a few selections which 
they have heard me give at their camp fires, and in compliance with 
such request I have added the following war poems and miscellane- 
ous pieces, which I hope will touch a tender chord in the hearts of 
the brave old boys.— N. R. S.] 

THE BLACKSMITH'S STORY. 

FRANK OLIVE. 

"TTT^ELL, no ! my wife ain't dead, sir, but I lost 
^ ^ her just the same. 

She left me voluntarily, and neither was to blame. 

It's rather a queer story, but I think that you'll 
a^ree. 

When you've heard the circumstances, it was 
rather rough on me. 

She was a soldier's widow, he was killed at Mal- 
vern Hill, 

And after I had married her, she seemed to sorrow 
for him still. 

But I brought her here to Kansas, and I never 
want to see 

A better wife than Mary was for five bright years 
to me. 



GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 45 

A change of scene brought cheerfulness, and soon 
arose a glow 

Of happiness, warmed Mary's cheeks and melted 
all their snow. 

And I think she loved me some, that I'm bound 
to think, sir; 

And as for me, I can't begin to tell how much I 
loved her. 

Three years ago the baby came, our humble home 
to bless. 

And then I reckon I was nigh to perfect happi- 
ness. 

'Twas hers, 'twas mine, but I can't explain to you 

How that little girl's weak fingers our hearts to- 
gether drew. 

Once we watched it through a fever, and with 
each gasping breath 

Dumb with an awful, nameless woe, we waited for 
its death. 

And though I'm not a pious man, our hearts to- 
gether there 

For Heaven to spare our darling one, went up in 
voiceless prayer. 

And when the doctor said 'twould live what words 
our joy could tell. 

Clasped in each other's arms, our grateful tears 
together fell. 

So you see the shadows sometimes fell across our 
little nest, 



46 GEMS PKOM AK OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 

But it only made the sunshine seem a doubly 

welcome guest. 
Work came to me a plenty, and I kept the anvil 

ringing, 
Early and late, you^l find me there a humming 

and a singing. 
Love moved my arm to labor, and moved my 

tongue to song, 
And though my singing wasn^t sweet, it was 

tremendous strong. 
One day a one-armed stranger stopped to have me 

nail a shoe. 
And while at work for him we passed a compli- 
ment or two. 
I asked him how he lost his arm, he said 'twas 

shot away 
At Malvern Hill. At Malvern Hill! did you 

knoAV Robert May ? 
That's me. You ! You ! I cried, choking with hor- 
rid doubt, 
H you're tlie man just follow me, Ave'll try this 

mystery out. 
With dizzy steps I led him in to Mary. God! 

'twas true. 
Then the bitterest pangs of misery, unspeakable 

I knew. 
Frozen with deadly horror she stared with eyes of 

stone 
And from her quivering lips there broke one wild 

despairing moan. 



'gems from AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 47 

^Twas he, the husband of her youth, now risen 

from tlie dead, 
But all too late, and with a cry her shattered 

senses fled. 
What could be done ? He was reported dead. 

On his return 
He strove in vain some tidings of his absent wife 

to learn. 
^Twas well that he was innocent, else Vd have 

killed him, too. 
So dead he never would have riz ^till Gabriel's 

trumpet blew. 
It was agreed then that Mary between us should 

decide. 
And each by her decision would sacredly abide. 
No sinner at the judgment seat waiting eternal 

doom 
Could suffer what I did, waiting sentence in that 

room. 
Eigid and breathless there we stood, with nerves 

as tense as steel, 
While Mary's eyes sought each face in piteous ap- 
peal. 
God, could not a woman's duty be less hardly rec- 
onciled 
Between her lawful husband and the father of 

her child ? 
But how my heart was chilled to ice, when Mary 

knelt and said. 



48 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

'•'Forg've me, John, he is my husband, here alive, 

not dead." 
I raised her up tenderly, and tried to tell her she 

was right. 
But somehow in my aching heart the prisoned 

words stuck tight. 
" But, John, I can't leave baby." What wife and 

child, cried I, 
Must I yield all. Ah! cruel fate, better that I 

should die. 
Think of the long, sad, lonely hours, waiting in 

gloom for me, 
No wife to cheer me with her love, no babe to 

climb my knee. 
And yet you are her mother, and the sacred 

mother love 
Is still the purest, tenderest tie that Heaven ever 

wove. 
Take her, but promise, Mary, for that will bring 

no shame, 
My little girl shall bear, and learn to lisp her 

father's name. 
It may be in the life to come, I'll meet my child 

and wife. 
But yonder at that cottage gate, we parted for 

this life. 
One long hand-clasp from Mary, and my dream 

of love was done, 
One long embrace from baby, and my happiness 

was gone. 



GEMS FROM AK OLD I)KU3IMER's GRIP. 49 

BILL BROWN, FROM COHOES. 

JOSEPH DE BARTHE. 

"X^ES, stranger, Fm bu'sted. The circus went 

up, 
An' I^m trampin' back home. Will I what— take 

a sup ? 
Well, IM smile ! You're a stunner ! From— thun- 
der ! Cohoes ? 
Why, shake. You might know that I wouldn't 

refuse. 
From Cohoes I Well, I'm stabbed ! An' you know 

Billy Brown 
An' the rest of the fellows that hail from that 

town ? 
Yes, Bill Brown, my old pardner; a mighty fine 

lad! 
What, bu'sted agin ? Well, I swow, that's too bad. 
He wasn't no cherub, was William, but then 
He was always a royal good man among men. 
He was quick with his hands an' hasty in speech. 
Was lightnin' in kickin' an' long in his reach. 
But down far beneath the old jumper he wore 
Beat a heart that was honest an' true to the core! 
An' I'll never forget— my regards. Ah ! that cup 

Seems to warm my old heart. I don't mind fill 

'em up! 



50 GEMS FROM AI>^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

It was out in Ohio. The war had just closed, 
An* a good many men as was brothers with those 
AVho pulled down the old flag to set up the new, 
An' who fought in the gray 'gainst the others in 

blue. 
Had turned their eyes West, an' were ploddin' 

their way 
Wherever God's mercy allowed them to stay. 
It's not that I'm down on Ohio at all 
I'm tellin' this story. I want to recall 
How one soldier who fought for the cause that 

was won 
Stood up like a man for a perishing son 
Of the cause that was lost. How I lov'd his good 

will! 
I worshipped him then, an' I worship him still. 
But, on with the story. It happened this wise : 
One day in the habit he couldn't disguise 
There came to a town in Ohio a man 
Who had wasted his strength in the war that 

began 
With the storming of Sum^ter. Hungry an' poor. 
He asked for a crust at a wealthy man's door. 
An' told them his story. Then up went the cry ! 
" He ought to be lynched ! " and a crowd gathered 

An' into that crowd like a bullet there shot 

A form that the rebel has never forgot; 

An' he gazed for a moment about him, an' then 



GEMS FROM AJ^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 51 

Cried out in a ringin' voice: '^Sliame on ye, men! 
Would you harm a poor devil because he went 

wrong ? " 
An' a broad-shouldered teamster who stood in the 

throng 
Yelled forth : " He's a rebel, an' fought 'gainst the 

flag; 
Pulled down the barr'd banner an' raised up a 

rag ! " 
Bill halted him then, an', said he with a frown : 
" That's a thing of the past, for the war's been put 

down ! " 
But the crowd were all mad an' wouldn't keej) 

still. 
An' they swore they would tear the blue clothes 

off of Bill 
If he didn't move on, or ventured to speak 
Again in defence of a low Southern sneak. 
That's all as was needed to stir up Bill Brown! 
ril bet if an earthquake had scooped in the town 
It wouldn't have scattered them anywhere near 
As much as Bill's fisticuffs filled them with fear: 
For, you see, tlie blue suit they had threaten'd to 

tear 
Was the very one Bill had fought in " down there ; " 
An' he did up that gang in a real han'some way — 
As easy as lightnin', as if 'twas but play. 
Then he put out his hand and he said : " Come 

with me." 



52 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

An' we went. For Hwas I was the reb — do you 

see ? 
An' lie thinks I'm older an' blinder, you say ? 
An' youWe laughin'! Great caravan! Gol durn 

my shoes. 
If it isn't — yes, bless me — Bill Brown — from 

Cohoes ! 



THE VETERAN AND HIS GRANDSON. 

BY J. W. CRAWFORD (CAPT. JACK). 
Dedicated to Corporal James Tanner. 

"T TOLD on! Hold on! My goodness! You take 

-^ — "- my breath, my son, 

A firin' questions 't me like shots from a Gatlin 

gun. 
Why do I wear this eagle an' flag an' brazen star ? 
An' why do my old eyes glisten when somebody 

mentions war ? 
An' why do I call men " Comrade ? " an' why do 

my eyes grow bright 
When you hear me tell your gran'ma I'm goin' to 

Post to-night ? 
Come here, you inquisitive rascal, and set on your 

grandpa's knee. 
An' I'll try to answer the broadsides you've been 

a-firin' at me. 



GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMEK's GRIP. 53 

Away back in the sixties, and along afore you 

were born, 
The news came a-flashin' to us one bright and 

sunny morn, 
That some of our Southern brothers, a-thinkin^ no 

doubt ^twar right, 
Had trailed their guns on our banner, an' opened 

a nasty fight. 
The great big guns war a boomin', an' the shot 

flyin' thick and fast. 
And troops all over the Southland war rapidly 

bein' massed : 
An' a thrill went through the nation — a fear that 

our glorious land 
Might be split an' divided an' ruined by mistaken 

brothers' hand. 



Lord, but wan't there excitement, an' didn't the 
boys' eyes flash ? 

An' didn't we curse our brothers for bein' so 
foolish an' rash ? 

An' didn't we raise the neighbors with loud and 
continued cheers 

When Abe sent out a dockyment a-callin' for vol- 
unteers ? 

An' didn't we flock to the colors when the drums 
began to beat. 

An' didn't we march with proud steps along the 
village street ? 



54 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

An' didn't the peoi:)le cheer us when we got 

aboard the cars 
With the flag a-wavin' o'er us, and went away to 

the wars ? 



I'll never forget your gran'ma as she stood out- 
side o' the train. 
Her face as white as a snowdrift, her tears a-fallin' 

like rain. 
She stood there quiet and doath-like, 'mid all o' 

the rusli and noise, 
For the war war a-takin' from her, her husband 

and three brave boys — Bill, 
Charley, and little Tommy — just turned eighteen, 

but as true 
An' gallant a little soldier as ever wore the bine. 
It seemed almost like murder for to tear her poor 

heart so. 
But your gran'dad couldn't st y, b-.by, an' the 

boys war determined to go. 

The evenin' afore we started she called the boys 

to her side. 
An' told 'em as how they war always their mother's 

joy and pride. 
An' though her soul was in torture, an' her poor 

heart bleedin' an' sore. 
An' though she needed her darlings, their country 

needed 'em more. 



GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 55 

She told 'em to do their duty wharever their feet 

might roam. 
An'' to never forgit in battle their mother was 

prayin^ at home; 
An' if (an' the tears near choked her) they should 

fall in front o' the foe, 
She'd go to the blessed Saviour and ax him to 

lighten the blow. 

Bill lays an' awaits the summons 'neath Spottsyl- 

vania's sod. 
An' on the field of Antietam Charlie's spirit went 

back to God; 
An' Tommy, our baby Tommy, we buried one star- 
lit night 
Along with his fallen comrades just after the 

Wilderness fight. 
The lightning struck our family tree, and stripped 

it of every limb, 
A-leavin' only this bare old trunk a-standin' alone 

and grim. 
My boy, that's why your grandma, when you kneel 

to the God you love. 
Makes you ax Him to watch your uncles an' make 

'em happy above. 

That's why you sometimes see her with tear-drop 

in her eyes, 
That's why you sometimes catch her a tryin' to 

hide her sighs; 



56 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

That's why at our great reunions^ she looks so 
solemn an' sad; 

That's why her heart seems a-breakin' when the 
boys are jolly and glad; 

That's why you sometimes find her in the bed- 
room overhead, 

Down on her knees a-prayin', with their pictures 
laid out on the bed ; 

That's why the old-time brightness will light up 
her face no more, 

Till she meets her hero Avarriors in the camp on 
the other shore. 



An' when the great war was over, back came the 

veterans true, 
At'ith not one star a-missin' from the azure field 

of blue; 
An' the boys, who on the field o' battle had stood 

the fiery test. 
Formed Posts o' the great Grand Army in the 

North, South, East, and the West. 
Fraternity, Charity, Loyalty, is the motto 'neath 

which they train — 
Their object to care for the helpless an' banish 

sorrow an' pain 
From the homes of the widows an' orphans o' the 

boys who have gone before, 
To answer their names at roll call in the great 

Grand Army Corps. 



GEMS FEOM AN^ OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 57 

An' that's why we wear these badges, the eagle an' 

the flag an' star, 
TForn only by veteran heroes who fought in that 

bloody war. 
An' that's why my old eyes glisten while talkin' 

about the fray. 
An' that's why I call men " Comrade " when I 

meet 'em every day; 
An' that's why I tell your grandma " I'm going to 

Post to-night." 
For there's where I meet the old boys who stood 

with me in the fight. 
An', my child, that's why I've taught you to love 

and revere the men 
Who come here a wearin' badges, to fight those 

battles again. 



They are the gallant heroes who stood 'mid shot 

and shell. 
An' followed the flying colors right into the mouth 

o' hell. 
They are the men whose valor saved the land from 

disgrace and shame, 
An' lifted her back in triumph to her perch on 

the dome o' fame; 
An' as long as you live, my darling, till your pale 

lips in death are mute. 
When you see that badge on a bosom take off your 

hat and salute ; 



An' if any old veteran should halt you an' ques- 
tion you why you do. 

Just tell him you've got a right to, for your grand- 
dad's a Comrade, too. 



SERGEANT JOHN CAETEE AND SON. 

SHERMAK D. RICHARDSOI^. 

"YTTELL, Billy, our march is nigh ended; 
^ ' AVhen we reach the top of yon hill 
We can see the old home in the valley. 

Where it stands beside the stone mill. 
It is years since we left it, my Billy, 

To march with the comrades of blue. 
Shall we find all the loved ones awaiting 

That bade us that morning adieu ? 

The moon shines down through the maples 

As the sun shone down that day, 
And the village bell rings as cheerily 

As it chimed when we marched aAvay. 
You then were a stripling, my Billy, 

And I in the strength of my prime; 
The prison pen made me an old man, 

And my raven locks gray ere their time. 



Three years since from home we've had tidings. 

The letter came to us that day 
When we charged by the bridge at Manassas 

And they captured our line for pay. 
Three years of sad lonely watching 

In the hands of a terrible fate; 
But in the old home in the valley 

'Twas a longer time, Billy, to wait. 

Ah! here is the churchyard, Billy; 

But it seems to have larger grown. 
And see in our own lot yonder. 

Rises a gleaming white stone. 
Can it be — let me lean on you — Billy, 

Alas ! that our coming is late. 
Shall we find the loved ones in the churchyard. 

That we left at the old garden gate ? 

Two mounds heave the sod close together — 

Alas ! death spared us not one — 
The graves of the mother and daughter 

Are the welcome of father and son. 
Let me kneel on the sod here, Billy, 

And trace out the message of grief. 
The rose and the lily together 

Have been bound in the reaper's sheaf. 

This is sacred to the memory of — what's the 
meaning, 
Sergeant John Carter and Son, 



60 GEMS FROM AIS" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

AYho were killed in the month of July, 

'CA, at the fight of Bnll Pain. 
Good Heavens, why that's us, Billy, 

Dead and buried three years to-day, 
With an epitaph fit for a general. 

How we fell in the heat of the fray. 

Three cheers for yon light in the valley 

And the friends we shall meet at the gate. 
Sister and mother, daughter and — Billy, 

Perhaps my coming is late. 
The weeds may have faded to garlands. 

And sorrow supplanted by love. 
You go alone, boy, to the valley, 

I'll stay in the churchyard above. 

If my wife awaits in the cottage 

Come back ere the moon goes down, 
And the words shall be changed on the tablet 

And flowers crown over each mound. 
If not— then good-by, and God bless you. 

Unchanged let the tablet remain, 
'Tis best I shall be remembered 

As I marched that day down the lane. 

The monument stands for the heroes 

Who rest unknown far from home. 
But the tablet is changed, a message came to him 

Ere the moon left the star-spangled dome. 



For the love of woman is true and forever 

And the love of man is strong in its might. 
Sunshine and shadow, gladness and sorrow, 
Gleaming tints from the past to-day and to- 
morrow 
Weave ever a rainbow of light. 



OUE FOLKS. 

[Note. — The following beautiful and touching lines were taken 
from the knapsack of a Union soldier, who was found dead, upon the 
battle-field of Hatcher's Run, Va., in Nov., 1864. The original manu- 
script, torn and defaced, was presented to Major Barton by Colonel 
Edward Hill, of the Sixteenth Michigan Infantry. The author is un- 
known.] 

Tiri! Harry! Hallie! Halt, and tell 
-■ — ^ A soldier just a thing or two; 
You've had a furlough ! been to see 

How all the folks in Jersey do ; — 
It's a year agone since I was there, 

I, and the bullet from Fair Oaks. 
Since you've been home, old comrade, true. 

Say, did you see any of " our folks ? " 
You did ? Shake hands ! Oh, ain't I glad ! 

For if I do look grim and rough, 
I've got some feeling. People think 

A soldier's heart is mighty tough! 
But, Harry, when the bullets fly. 



Q2 GEMS FROM AK" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 

And hot saltpetre flames and smokes. 
And whole battalions lie a-field, 

One^s apt to think about his folks. 
And so you saw them ! When and where ? 
The old man ! Is he lively yet? 

And mother — does she fade at all, 
Or does she seem to pine and fret foi me ? 

And little '' sis/' has she grown tall ? 
And then, you know, her friend, that 

Annie Ross — How this pipe chokes: — 
Come, Hal, and tell me, like a man. 

All the news about our folks. 
You saw them at the church, you say; 

It's likely; for they're always there 
On Sunday. What! No! A funeral! 

Who ? Why, Harry, how you halt and stare ! 
And all were well, and all were out ? 

Come, surely, this can't be a hoax ! 
Why don't you tell me, like a man, 

What is the matter with our folks ? " 



"I said all well, old comrade dear; 

I say all well! for He knows best. 
Who takes His young lambs in His arms 

Before the sun sinks in the west. 
The soldier's stroke deals left and right. 

But flowers fall as well as oaks — 
And so, fair Annie blooms no more : 

And that's the matter with ' your folks.' 



GEMS FROM AI^" OLD DRUMMER'S GRIP. 63 

Here^s this long curl, ^twas sent to you. 

And this fair blossom, from her breast. 
And here — your sister Bessie wrote 

This letter telling all the rest." 
Bear up, old friend, nobody speaks 

Only the dull camp raven croaks 
And soldiers whisper, " Boys, be still ! 

There^s some bad news from Granger's folks ! " 
He turned his back upon his grief 
And sadly tried to hide the tears 
Kind nature sends to woe's relief. 
Then answered, "Ah, well! Hal, I'll try; 

But in my throat there's something chokes 
Because, you see, I'd thought so long 

To count her in among our folks. 
All may be well; but yet, 

I can't help thinking, too, 
I might have kept this trouble off 

By being gentle, kind and true! 
But maybe not. She's safe up there ; 

And when His hand deals other strokes 
She'll stand at Heaven's gate, I know. 

To wait and welcome ^ our folks.' 



04 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER S GRIP. 

BANTY TIM. 

JOHN HAY. 

[Remarks of Sergeant Tilmon Joy to the white man's committee of 
Spunky Point, Illinois.] 

T RECKON I gifc your drift, gents— 
-^ You low the boy shan't stay; 
This is a white man's country; 

You're Dimocrats, you say; 
And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, 

The times bein' all out o' j'int. 
The nigger has got to mosey 

From the limits o' Spunky P'int ! 

Le's reason the thing a minute ; 

I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too. 
Though I laid my politics out o' the way 

For to keep till the war was through. 
But I come back here, alio win' 

To vote as I used to do. 
Though it gravels me like the devil to train 

Along o' sich fools as you. 

Now dog my cats ef I kin see. 

In all the light of the day. 
What you've got to do with the question 

Ef Tim shall go or stay. 



GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 65 

And furder than that I give notice, 

Ef one of you tetches the boy, 
He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime 

Than he'll find in Illanoy. 

Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me ! 

You know that ungodly day 
When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how 
ripped 

And torn and tattered we lay. 
When the rest retreated I staid behind, 

Fur reasons sufficient to me — 
With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, 

I sprawled on that cursed glacee. 

Lord ! how the hot sun went for us. 

And br'iled and blistered and burned; 
How the rebel bullets whizzed round us 

When a cuss in his death-grip turned ! 
Till along toward dusk I seen a thing 

I couldn^t believe for a spell : 
That nigger — that Tim — was a-crawlin' to me 

Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! 

The rebels seen him as quick as me. 

And the bullets buzzed like bees; 
But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, 

Though a shot brought him once to his knees; 



66 GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER^S GRIP. 

But he staggered up, and packed me off. 
With a dozen stumbles and falls, 

Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, 
His black hide riddled with balls. 

So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer. 

And here stays Banty Tim: 
He trumped Death's ace for me that day. 

And I'm not goin' back on him ! 
You may rezoloot till the cows come home. 

But ef one of you tetches the boy, 
He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell, 

Or my name's not Tilmon Joy! 



THE OLD TOOLS IN A FEAME. 

(From the Groton and Lansing Journal.) 

[N. R. Streeter, tlie "Jolly Old Drummer," was formerly a shoe- 
maker. He worked at the business about twenty years, the greater 
part of the time he filled a position known as a custom foreman (a 
trade which has become obsolete). Mr. Streeter has always kept his 
old pinchers and hammer, also His size stick. He recently sent them 
to New York and had them gilded with 22 karat gold, and set upon 
a blue silk plush back in a gilded frame, and he wrote the following 
lines and glued them to the back of the frame.] 

HERE are all that remains of my faithful old 
kit. 
For long years ago shoemaking I quit. 
My sticks are all gone, either misplaced or lost. 
Like a hand-full of pegs in a hurricane tossed. 



GEMS FROM A:N' OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 67 

This trio, I've kept, refusing to lend. 

(Though I seldom was known to go back on a 

friend.) 
A place in my parlor they now shall enjoy. 
And when I am gone, they'll belong to my boy. 
As I gaze on these faithful old relies and think, 
An apprentice again, I stand on the brink 
Of life's speeding river, a " cub " once again. 
Hear the tap of the hammers, the jokes of the 

men. 
But alas ! In the factories the shoes now are 

made. 
And few there remain of an obsolete trade. 
The men in the factories all work ih teams. 
And few even know what the fuddle stick means. 
To the gray-headed craftsmen, this seems very 

queer 
(As they think of the times when they fuddled 

for beer). 
But, though babies were born with shoes on their 

feet. 
We old Crispins will never get round on the seat. 
And though fortune smiles and luck with me 

lingers, 
I'll despise not the days, when I'd wax on my 

fingers. 
And whene'er an old " shoey " I meet on time's 

shore, 
I'll greet him as shopmate, the same as of yore. 



68 GEMS FKOM AK OLD DRUMMEK'S GRIP. 

THE OLD MAN AND JIM. 

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. 

/^LD Man never had much to say, 

^^ 'Ceptin to Jim — 

And Jim was the wildest boy he had — 

And the Old Man jes' wrapped up in him! 
Never heerd him speak but once 
Er twice in my life — and first time was 
When the war broke out, and Jim he went, 
The Old Man backin^ him fer three months, 
And all 'at I heerd the Old Man say 
Was, jes' as we turned to start away — 

" Well, good-bye, Jim ; 

Take keer of yourse'f ? " 

Teared like he was more satisfied 

Jes' lookin' at Jim, 
And likin' him all to hisself-like, see ? 

^Cause he was jes' wrapped up in him! 
And over and over I mind the day 
The Old Man come and stood round in the way 
AVhile we was drilling', a-watchin' Jim — 
And down at the deepot a-heerin' him say — 

"Well, good-bye, Jim; 

Take keer of yourse'f! " 



GEMS FROM Alsf OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 69 

Never was nothin' about the farm 

Distinguished Jim; 
Neighbors all ust to wonder why 

The Old Man 'peared wrapped up in him ! 
But when Cap. Biggler, he writ back 
'At Jim was the bravest boy he had 
In the whole dern regiment, white er black. 
And his fightin' good as his farmin' bad— 
'At he had led, with a bullet clean 
Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag 
Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen. 
The Old Man wound up a letter to him 
'At Cap read to us, 'at said,— 
"Tell Jim Good-bye; 

And take keer of hisse'f." 

Jim come back jes' long enough 

To take the whim 
'At he'd like to go back in calvery— 

And the Old Man jes' wrapped up in him!— 
Jim 'lowed 'at he'd had sich luck afore. 
Guessed he'd tackle her three years more 
And the Old Man gave him a colt he'd raised 
And followed him over to Camp Ben Wade, 
And laid around for a week or so, 
Watchin' Jim on dress parade — 
Tell finally he rid way. 
And last he heard was the Old Man say, 
"Well, good-by, Jim; 

Take keer of yourse'f ! " 



70 GEMS FROM AN" OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 

Tuk the papers, the Old Man did, 

A-watchin' for Jim — 
Fully believin^ he'd make his mark 

Some way — jes' wrapped up in him ! 
And many a time the word 'ud come 
'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum — 
At Petersburg, for instance, where 
Jim rid right into their cannons there, 
And tuk 'em, and p'inted 'em t'other way 
And socked it home to the boys in gray. 
As they skooted fer timber, and on and on 
Jim a lieutenant and one arm gone. 
And the Old Man's words in his mind all day ! 

" Well, good-bye, Jim ; 

Take care of yourse'f!" 

Think of a private, now, perhaps. 

We'll say like Jim, 
'At's dumb clean up to the shoulder straps — 

And the Old Man jes' wrapped up in him! 
Think of him — with the war plum' through, 
And the glorious old Red-White-and-Blue 
A laughin' the news down over Jim 
And the Old Man, ben din' over him — 
The surgeon turnin' away with tears 
'At hadn't leaked fer years and years — 
As the hand of the dying boy clung to 
His father's, the old voice in his ears! 

" Well, good-bye, Jim : 

Take keer of yourse'f ! " 



GEMS FROM AN OLD DRUMMER's GRIP. 71 

PADDY^S EXCELSIOR. 

'rpWAS growing dark so terrible fasht, 

Whin through a town up the mountain 
there pashed 
A broth of a boy, to his neck in the shnow; 
As he walked, his shillelah he swung to and fro. 
Saying: "It's up to the top I'm bound for to go. 
Be jabbers ! " 

He looked mortal sad, and his eye was as bright 
As a fire of turf on a cowld winther night; 
And niver a word that he said could ye tell 
As he opened his mouth and let out a yell, 
" It's up till the top of the mountain I'll go, 
OnUss covered up wid this bodthersome shnow. 
Be jabbers ! " 

Trough the windows he saw, as he thraveled 

along. 
The light of the candles, and fires so warm. 
But a big chunk of ice hung over his head; 
Wid a shnivel and groan, "By St. Patrik!'' he 

said, 
" It's up to the very tip-top I will rush, 
And then if it falls, it's not meself it '11 crush. 
Be jabbers ! " 



72 GEMS FROM AK OLD DRUMMER'S GRir. 

'^ Whisht a bit," said an owld man, whose head 

was as white 
As the shnow that fell down on that miserable 

night; 
" Shure, y'e'll fall in the wather, me bit of a lad, 
Fur the night is so dark and the walkin' is bad." 
Bedad ! he'd not lisht to a word that was said 
But he'd go till the top, if he went on his head. 
Be jabbers ! 

A bright, buxom young girl, such as likes to be 

kissed. 
Axed him wouldn't he stop, and how cotild he 

resist ? 
So, shnapping his fingers and winking his eye, 
While shmiling upon her, he made this reply — 
" Faith, I meant to kape on till I got to the top. 
But, as yer shwate self has axed me, I may as well 

shtop 

Be jabbers ! " 

He shtopped all night and he shtopped all day, — 
And ye musn't be axing whin he did go away; 
Fur wouldn't he be a bastely gossoon 
To be laving his darlint in the swate honey-moon ? 
Whin the owld man has peraties enough, and to 

spare, 
Shure he moight as well shtay if he's comfortable 

there. 

Be jabbers ! 



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